Chapter 21: Of Windblown Sketches and Stubborn Curiosity
Evander exhaled again.
There was a pause between them, filled only by the quiet murmur of the lake and the distant echo of palace bells drifting faintly through the trees.
At length, Evander straightened.
"Well," he said, "since you have so thoroughly ruined my chances of returning to sleep, and before Robin and Mathias start a war on enemy territory, we may as well go back to my chambers."
Tommy blinked.
"Oh."
Evander gestured vaguely toward the palace.
"There will be no point lingering here now."
Tommy nodded and hesitated before he spoke.
"Your Grace… are you certain you are well enough to walk?"
Evander stared at him.
"I am not dying, Tommy. And I am standing right now."
"I am aware of that," Tommy said earnestly. "I simply wish to ensure—"
"There is no cause for alarm, you stubborn lad," Evander interrupted gently. "It is merely a mild headache."
Tommy swallowed. Then he nodded again.
"Yes, Your Grace."
